Untold Stories: Two-Timing Irish Stew Pot
by OmNomNomAttack
Summary: They had to be pretty stupid to let O'Deary into the police force. He thanks his lucky stars they were. Policeman by day, gangster by night - Fat Sam's contact in the agency... Not that anyone would care to check up on O'Deary, he's just a dumb potato-head after all. Warnings: None. Parings: None.


O'Dreary looked behind himself, seeing Smoulsky's movements becoming slower and slower as the plaster hardened. He turned the next corner, spotting a pay phone. Pulling a quarter from his pocket, he dialled the number of Fat Sam's.

"_Fat Sam's Grad Slam, Fizzy speaking_." O'Dreary dropped his stupid grin, allowing himself a smirk.

"Hey, Fizzy, its Ginger. You sound well." He heard the bitter laugh of his old friend.

"_Oh, you know… Mr Sam still won't let me audition… Knuckles has been moping since the incident and Bangles won't talk to me. I don't know why._" He mumbled and O'Dreary smiled sadly, poor Fizzy always had problems.

"Listen, I'll be back soon, tell me all about it when I get back. Can you put the boss on?" He asked. There was a moment of rustling and some muffled talking and a little bit of shouting.

"_Hello?_" Fat Sam's distinct Brooklyn accent and angry air bombarded O'Dreary's ear.

"Hey, boss, its Ginger." He said, to which the anger seemed to dissipate somewhat.

"_Hey, Ginger, what's the news? Has that oaf gotten wise to our plans yet?_" O'Dreary laughed somewhat, shaking his head despite the fact Sam couldn't see.

"He was checking 'round the meeting spot for tire marks and almost found an actual clue." He let out a gruff chuckle. "I left him covered in plaster and stuck in the middle of New York. He has bigger things on his mind than tires right now." He grinned before talking once more. "I'm coming back to the Speakeasy, I'll see you soon." He said. The two of them said their goodbyes, O'Dreary stopping into a local diner to wash his hair out of his signature curl and changed out of his police uniform, he had to hand it to Sam, getting into the force was easier than he thought, why they let that idiot Smoulsky become Captain will always be a mystery to him.

Exiting the bathroom, he placed his hat on his head and fixed up the cuffs on his dress shirt. Nodding to the waitresses who gave him funny looks, he left the diner, getting into the nearest cab, heading to Pop Becker's book store. Razzmatazz was manning the station, filing her nails.

"Hey Ginger." She winked at him, "Fizzy's been awful mopey, said you were comin' by soon." As O'Dreary looked closer, he saw her eyes were rather red and her make-up was heavier than usual.

"Razzmatazz, what's happened?" He asked, to which she burst into tears.

"Gone, G, the whole gang was splurged. Now its just Mr Sam and Knuckles. They… they got everyone… Even Ritzy." It was common knowledge that Razzmatazz was very fond of the light-haired hoodlum. She took a deep breath, wiping her eyes carefully. "Tallulah an' the girls will be makin' fun of me if they saw me like this." She shook her head, running a hand over her hair to smooth it down. "Go on through, they're expecting you." She gave him a watery smile. O'Dreary nodded, giving her a sympathetic smile as he headed through the walkway.

Joe was playing the piano softly in the corner as young woman O'Dreary had never seen before sang a slow, mournful song. Sam clapped O'Dreary on the back as he walked through. "Ginger, I ain't doin' well. Knuckles is makin' up the prototype for _my_ splurge gun but… Dandy Dan's gettin' harder to stop. I'm relyin' on you to stop that nosy, no-good, brainless oaf of a Captain from getting in my way, you got me?" Sam asked, to which O'Dreary nodded.

"Consider it done." He nodded. Sam looked around, taking a deep breath, before his eyes settled on the girl singing.

"She'll liven up soon, whether its me or Dan that's in charge, she'll still be singin'." He left O'Dreary at a booth with a special on the rocks. There was a loud sigh from beside O'Dreary's table, Fizzy leaned against his mop.

"Hey, Fizzy." He said looking up at the janitor, who slumped across from the cop.

"Hey, Ginger. Knuckles is busy, can I drink with you?" He asked to which the Irish man nodded. Joe brought over another special on the rocks for him.

"Tell me all about it, buddy." O'Dreary's trademarked Irish accent drawled as he sipped the lime flavoured drink.


End file.
